


Just Maybe

by BethKerring



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Angst, But he's trying, Canon Compliant, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Filbrick Pines Is A Jerk, Fluff, Ford Pines is a Good Brother, Gen, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Self-Worth Issues, Stan Pines Gets a Hug!!, Stan Pines Has Issues, Stan Pines Needs A Hug, Time Travel, and he loves Stan, he messes up (and will do so a lot more), somehow XD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-05
Updated: 2020-06-05
Packaged: 2021-03-04 03:40:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,792
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24547048
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BethKerring/pseuds/BethKerring
Summary: Being stuck inside for the rest of the summer sucks, but Stan has Ford, and he thinks he can get through it. But that doesn't mean he's going to say no when a strange woman in a bright yellow sweater offers to break them out for a day on the beach.(Or, twenty-something Mabel and Dipper are experimenting with time travel and end up in the '60s, and Mabel isn't going to leave without meeting the little Stans.)
Relationships: Dipper Pines & Stan Pines, Ford Pines & Stan Pines, Mabel Pines & Stan Pines
Comments: 21
Kudos: 176





	Just Maybe

**Author's Note:**

> My first submission for [thestanbro’s Stan Twin’s event](https://thestanbros.tumblr.com/post/619115995791015936/yes-indeed-folks-another-stan-twins-event-is)! This week's prompt is "childhood." I told myself I was just going to write a quick, short oneshot, but that … clearly did not happen. Still a oneshot, though. I guess. XD
> 
> Though this definitely does not take place in any of these universes, this has ended up taking a lot of inspiration from several different fics, including [Five Years Older](https://archiveofourown.org/works/8440027/chapters/19335682), [Any Family You Choose](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16891200/chapters/39674343), [Choosing Family](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16973598), and [Elementary Relativity](https://archiveofourown.org/works/8517790). So credit where credit’s due, and if you haven’t read those, you should definitely check them out—they’re all fantastic. This takes place a few weeks after the Jersey Devil in the Details comic (so later during the summer when Stan and Ford are grounded indoors).
> 
> Warning for brief era-typical sexism, because Stan is a child of the ‘60s (and the son of the literal embodiment of toxic masculinity), as well as brief references to violence towards children. Oh, and a couple very minor swears.

“What did you say your name was again?”

The lady doesn’t even look over for almost ten seconds, her attention still locked on the Stan O’War like it’s the most impressive thing she’s seen in her life. Which, yeah, it probably is, but still. Stan doesn’t like being ignored.

When she finally turns to face him, she’s wearing that same beaming grin he’s seen at least twenty times now, like Stan isn’t staring at her with scrunched eyebrows and a frown.

“Susan.”

Stan frowns a little deeper. “I thought you said it was Wendy.”

She hums. “Oh, yeah. That works, too.”

Now that he thinks of it, Stan is pretty sure she also said her name was “Pacifica.” Except she started to say something else first, so it sounded more like “May-Pacifica.”

All those names are fake, of course, but as confused and frustrated as he is, Stan’s not gonna call her out. Anyone who breaks him and Ford out of their summer-long grounding for a day on the beach is cool in his book.

Even if she’s still really weird.

“Now!” she breaks in, clapping her hands. “We were gonna play pirates, right? So we need costumes! Luckily for you, I always carry emergency craft supplies!”

Ford opens his mouth like he wants to say something, but bites his tongue. Maybe he decides it’s not worth it, or maybe he’s being gullible, like he is way too much for someone so smart. Either way, the lady is already digging through her backpack, muttering to herself, and Stan doesn’t think she’d answer him.

He still isn’t sure this isn’t some weird dream. He’s been taking a lot more naps since he’s been stuck in his room all day—usually when Ford gets distracted by one of his nerd books and he has nothing to keep him busy. It sure _felt_ like a dream when a lady he’s never seen before—maybe twenty or thirty or some age around that—showed up right outside their window, _on the second floor,_ knocking on the glass and asking them to let her in.

Ford, of course, didn’t want to, because “we don’t know who she is,” “she could be a kidnapper,” “her smile is kind of creepy,” and “what are you doing, Stan, don’t let her in, we should yell for Mom.”

But Stan is a twelve-year-old who hasn’t left the house in seventeen days, and even if the lady kidnapped them, at least they’d get to go somewhere else.

She kind of _did_ kidnap them, depending on how you think about it. She took them out without their parents knowing, but she also didn’t _make_ them go anywhere. She just smiled and squealed and bounced around and talked about how cute they were, then told them she was taking them to the beach for the rest of the day because “keeping two adorable kids cooped up inside for so long is just _cruel._ ”

Stan is also pretty sure they never mentioned they were grounded. Or how long they’d been stuck inside.

It should probably worry him. It _does_ kind of worry him. He’s been around long enough to know that there are a lot of people you can’t trust, and this lady is putting up all kinds of red flags. But Stan is also good at knowing when someone is going to hurt him, and he’s getting … pretty much the exact opposite feeling from her. Yeah, she’s a little _too_ cheerful and affectionate for someone who just met them, and he doesn’t really like being called “adorable” five times in one day, but it doesn’t feel any more annoying than when Ma kisses his cheek in public. And all she’s really done is gush over both of them, walked with them to the beach, and then gushed over their boat—which is a pretty big plus in Stan’s book.

And to top it all off, when Ford noticed himself pointing things out on the Stan O’War and hid his hands behind his back, the lady just smiled, squeezed his shoulder, and told him his six fingers were the coolest thing she’s ever seen.

She could have been the weirdest person in the whole world, and Stan would have thought she was great just for the happy look she put on his brother’s face.

Speaking of brothers …

Stan glances across the beach, where a guy about the same age sits on the sand, fiddling with some kind of small machine. He has the same thick brown hair as the lady—shorter, though, and with stubble on his chin—and a vest instead of a bright yellow sweater, but unlike her, he’s hardly said a word to them since they got here. He was waiting for them on the beach, apparently not surprised to see them, even if he did stare a little too long for Stan’s comfort. The lady said he’s her twin brother, and that he—somehow—made it so no one would notice them gone from their room for the rest of the day.

The guy seemed … a little less enthusiastic than she was, and muttered something about “really needing to get home,” but then he gave Stan and Ford a tiny smile and promised that they would have at least five hours with no risk of being caught, and he would be able to sneak them back in without a problem. Stan hopes he’s telling the truth, because he _really_ doesn’t want to imagine what Pa will do if he finds out they left.

He’s still not sure what to make of the guy, especially since he hasn’t hung around enough for Stan to get a read on him. The lady said that his name is Mason, but she did the same stumbling thing she did with her own name, so it sounded more like “Dason.” But she’s said Mason every time after that, so Stan is still deciding whether that’s a fake name, too. It probably is.

He doesn’t think they’re lying about being brother and sister, though. They look enough alike, and there’s this sort of … way that they talk that reminds him too much of him and Ford to be a coincidence.

The guy is a lot quieter, though, and moves around without drawing attention to himself. Stan almost doesn’t notice him finally get up and cross the beach back toward them, staring at the machine he must have been fiddling with for at least an hour now. It’s probably a miracle he doesn’t trip on a random rock and fall flat on his face.

Too bad. That would be pretty funny.

When he gets maybe twenty feet away, the lady looks up from her backpack. Her face splits into a beaming grin, and she waves her arm high above her head.

“Hey bro-bro!”

Mason lifts his head.

“Hey—sis,” he says, and yeah, there was definitely a pause there. Fake names for sure. His eyes flick to Stan and Ford, then back to the machine. “Looks like we should be set for, uh, later.”

Stan and Ford give each other a confused look, but his sister just grins wider.

“Great!” she says, though she doesn’t seem that surprised. When she looks back to them, there’s a proud gleam in her eyes. “My brother can figure anything out. He’s one of the smartest people _ever_.”

Stan lifts his chin and gives her his best unimpressed look.

“Bet he’s not as smart as my brother.”

“Stan!” Ford hisses, sounding so affronted that Stan barely holds back a snort.

But the lady doesn’t even flinch. The proud gleam in her eyes doesn’t go away, but there’s something … soft there. Something fond?

“I bet they’re _equally_ smart. Or at least pretty close.” She shrugs. “Besides, it’s not a contest. Except when it is, and then it’s super nerdy and weird and I get to be the judge.”

Mason cringes and shakes his head.

“No, no, we are _not_ doing that again.”

The lady snickers. Mason rolls his eyes, but his lips twitch like he’s fighting back a smile.

Ford steps toward him, that curious, eager look on his face that Stan has seen too many times to count.

“What’s that?” he asks.

Mason blinks. “Huh?”

Ford bites his lip. Even though Mason hasn’t said a word about his hands, or even looked at them funny, he still hides them behind his back, motioning with his head instead.

“That … device you have,” he goes on, a little quieter. “What is it?”

Mason holds up the machine like he’s seeing it for the first time.

“Oh, it’s, uh … just something I made. An invention. It’s still experimental, though.”

Ford’s eyes blow so wide that Stan’s a little worried they’ll actually fall out of his head.

“You _made_ that?” he asks, stepping forward again before he jerks to a stop. Stan can see him weighing his curiosity with the high chance of being shot down. He tucks his hands even further behind him. “Can you show me how it works?”

Mason pauses. He doesn’t look like most adults do when they think Ford is being too nosy, but Stan still gets ready to step in front of his brother and tell this guy off.

“Well, it’s … it’d probably take a while to explain, but …” Mason gives the device another glance and looks back to Ford. He’s not really smiling, but there’s something … gentle about his face. Something that makes some of the tension in Stan’s gut slip away. “I could show you the wiring, if you want?”

The look on Ford’s face is different than when the lady told him his hands were cool, but it’s just as happy, and probably even brighter.

“Yes! Please!”

Mason smiles and sits down in the sand, holding out the thingamajig so Ford can see.

Everything that follows is nerd-babble, so Stan tunes it out. He tries to roll his eyes, but it’s hard to when Ford looks so happy. Even if Stan is a little bummed out that he’ll probably be ignored for at least the next hour. So much for getting to spend an afternoon together on the beach.

A hand touches his shoulder, and Stan finds the lady right in his face, beaming and holding up her backpack.

“Hey Stan! You wanna help me with the pirate costumes?”

Some fabric and what Stan thinks is a ball of yarn pokes out of her bag. Stan makes a face.

“Uh, I dunno … that’s girl stuff.”

The lady tilts her head and raises one eyebrow, giving him a funny smile that’s more like a smirk. “And why’s it girl stuff?”

Stan blinks. That … what kind of question is that? Of course it’s girl stuff, that’s _obvious._

But the lady is still looking at him, waiting for an answer, and even though Stan thinks about shrugging her off, he already knows he won’t be able to do it.

“‘Cause it’s … sewing?” Darn it, that wasn’t supposed to be a question. “And … making stuff?”

“And why’s making stuff for girls?” she asks, still wearing that same smirk. Yeah, it’s definitely a smirk.

Stan glances away.

“‘Cause it … is?”

That should be all the answer she needs. That’s all the answer anyone else needs—well, except that one girl who punched him in the face when he said cleaning up the classroom was for girls.

This lady doesn’t punch him in the face, thankfully. She just looks at him for a few seconds, like she’s waiting to see if he’ll explain more. Then she gives him a smile that’s way too knowing for his comfort.

“Well, I don’t know about you, but the strongest guy _I’ve_ ever met has made a _lot_ of stuff in his life,” she says. “Built a whole museum out of stuff he made himself, drew in tourists every day for years. Big tough guy, throws a great left hook, and really good at making stuff. But I guess if it’s too _girly_ for you, then I can finish them by myself …”

She drops her gaze to the backpack, reaching inside. Stan shifts and scrunches his face into a frown.

“I didn’t say I _wouldn’t_ …”

And just like that, she’s beaming at him, her eyes sparkling with so much warmth that he cares just a little less about doing something girly.

“Then c’mon and help me make pirate outfits!”

So Stan does.

He follows her maybe ten yards away, to a spot near the pier, sits down in the sand, takes some fabric and a needle and thread and … works on a pirate shirt.

It still feels girly, but the lady—Susan—Wendy?—makes it fun. And now that he thinks about it, Stan never knew girls liked pirates and boats. And she knows a _lot_ about both—even more than Stan, not that he’s going to tell her that. The whole time they’re working, she tells him all these random facts about what pirates did and how they lived and different types of boats they used, and even though Stan tries not to look too interested, he still stares, wide-eyed and open-mouthed, as she talks.

He’s so distracted that he barely notices her throwing in tips about how to sew stuff together, what stitches to use, the best way to cut fabric. Whenever he doesn’t know what to do next, he always looks over to find her doing exactly what’s confusing him, and he can watch her until he figures it out. He’s pretty sure he still messes up, and the pirate shirt he finishes doesn’t look anywhere near as good as hers, but she still squeals and hugs it to her chest, declaring that it’s the greatest thing she’s ever seen.

It’s all Stan can do to duck his head so she doesn’t see how red his face is.

He doesn’t tell her that it’s the best compliment he’s ever gotten.

But as they start on the pants, Stan glances up at her more and more, and every time, he finds her staring. At him. There’s something … off about the way she looks at him. Well, there’s been something off from the beginning, but it’s more obvious now. There’s something behind that warm smile that he doesn’t have a name for. It’s way too affectionate for someone who just met him, and she really does look at him like Ma does. Well. _Sometimes_ does. Usually when Pa isn’t around.

It’s not the kind of look he expects to see on someone he just met.

None of what’s happened today is _normal,_ and having Stanford as a brother means he’s used to weird stuff, but … this is pushing it. This isn’t any of the regular types of weird. This isn’t supernatural—even though he wouldn’t put supernatural past this lady. This is just … unsettling.

And the more time goes by, the more she stares at him, and the more her eyes start to look not just _fond,_ but also … sad.

Like she’s watching a movie she’s already seen ten times, and she knows something bad is going to happen, even if the characters don’t.

Stan doesn’t want to think about what that means.

They’re quiet for maybe ten minutes, and Stan does his best to keep working on the pants, but it’s hard with his thoughts bouncing around so much. He doesn’t think this lady is going to kidnap him, and whenever he checks on Ford and Mason, they’re still nerding out like … well. Nerds. He doesn’t think either of these people are going to hurt them, but that doesn’t make the bad feeling go away.

It just gets worse.

“Stan?”

Stan tries not to look up right away, even though he’s pretty sure the lady knows he knows she’s been staring at him, and he hasn’t even been trying to hide his thinking face.

“Yeah?” he asks, glancing back to the half-finished pants in his hands. He hasn’t made a stitch in at least two minutes.

She tilts her head. “Are you happy?”

Stan blinks.

He looks up the rest of the way, just to make sure that he heard her right. But she’s looking at him with an expression that matches her words perfectly. That is, they both make no sense at all.

“That’s a weird question,” he says, because it is. She doesn’t react. Stan fidgets. “You mean like … right now?”

She hums. “Well, yeah, right now, but also in general. Most of the time. No one’s happy all the time.”

“You seem like you’re happy all the time.”

Sure enough, she laughs and waves her hand off to the side.

“Well, _almost_ all the time. But not all the time. Otherwise I wouldn’t appreciate being happy!”

Stan raises an eyebrow. “So you’re … glad that you’re not happy all the time?”

She tilts her head the other way.

“Huh, never thought of it that way. But yeah, I guess so. Only kind of. It’s still not fun when it happens.” She makes a thoughtful face, nods to herself, then looks back to him. “But you’re changing the subject, you little sneaker. So. Are you happy?”

Stan holds the fabric so close to him that it feels like a shield. A really flimsy, useless shield, but still the best shield he’s got.

“That’s still a weird question.”

She keeps right on smiling. “Maybe. But I want to know.”

Stan grits his teeth.

“Why?” he forces out. “Why does it matter to you?”

Her smile softens. “Because I care about you.”

“But _why_ do you care about me?”

“Because I do.”

Stan freezes. Then he ducks his head and stares down at the fabric. “That’s a stupid answer.”

“Maybe, but it’s still true.” She gives him a couple of seconds, then sets down her own pair of mostly-finished pants and leans a little closer. “Why do you care about Ford?”

Stan’s head snaps up so fast his neck stings. The look on her face hasn’t changed much, but her words ring around his head like someone dropped a bouncy ball in it.

“‘Cause … he’s my brother,” Stan says, like it should be obvious. Because it _is_ obvious. “My twin.”

“But what if you found out you weren’t really twins? You were just two people who looked alike?”

Stan grips the fabric so tight his knuckles turn white.

“That wouldn’t happen.”

It can’t. It _won’t._ If that happened, then Stan already knows he wouldn’t be the real twin. He would be the fake one. The imposter. And if he wasn’t Ford’s real twin—wasn’t Pa’s real son—then he doesn’t know why he would keep him around.

“Yeah, I know it’s silly,” she says, and there’s something in her voice that tells him she knows a little too much of what he’s thinking. “But if it did. Would you still care about Ford?”

Stan fidgets. He glances to one side, then the other.

“… yeah.”

“Why?” she asks.

He furrows his brow and presses his lips together. “I dunno, just … because!”

Stan only realizes what he’s saying as the word is coming out of his mouth, and then it’s too late. The lady is already beaming at him, a little smug, but mostly happy.

“You see? You can’t explain it. It just is.” She definitely has bragging rights, but he doesn’t pick up on any of it in her voice. It’s still just kind, with way too much affection for a stranger. “I care about you because I do.”

Stan pokes out his bottom lip. “Still doesn’t make sense.”

She shrugs, smile unchanged.

“Doesn’t have to.” Then she raises an eyebrow. “You still never answered my question.”

Stan looks down at the sand. He tries to come up with something to say, something that will get her off his back and make her just _let it go._

Because it’s fine. Everything’s fine. Yeah, Pa … isn’t great, and yeah, Ma’s usually too busy for either of them, and he hardly ever sees Shermie anymore, and he doesn’t have any other friends, but he’s got Ford. And Ford will stand by him. Ford will _always_ stand by him. He proved that with the Sibling brothers.

He has Ford. Ford is all he needs.

To his relief, the lady doesn’t ask again, but she also doesn’t stop looking at him. Stan goes back to the sewing, just for something to do, but he feels her eyes locked on him even as she finishes her pair of pants. He doesn’t want to look at her, but he doesn’t need more than a glance.

She’s looking at him like he’s the most important thing in the world. And also the saddest.

He doesn’t even begin to know how to feel about that.

When she finally moves, he almost jumps. He looks up, and she’s getting to her feet and putting a hand on his shoulder.

“You’re doing great. You keep going and I’ll be right back.”

Stan opens his mouth to ask where she’s going, but she’s already gone, starting off in a half-walk, half-jog toward Mason and Ford.

Her brother looks up as she gets close to him, and she says something Stan can’t make out. Mason turns to Ford—Stan is pretty sure he says “be right back”—then follows her into the cave where Stan and Ford first found their boat.

Stan waits for Ford to look over at him, maybe share a confused look about how these two weird people keep getting weirder, but even though Mason took the machine with him, he apparently left Ford with some other kind of wiry … metal … stuff. Stan knows that look on his face. When Ford looks like that, nothing short of dumping ice water over his head will snap him out of it.

Ocean water might work, too, but … Stan doesn’t really feel up to that right now.

And before he even realizes what he’s doing, he’s on his feet, heading toward the cave where the two strange grown-ups disappeared.

As loud as he normally is, he’s good at being quiet when he wants to be, and sand doesn’t make a lot of noise. He slips through the hole he can still feel himself punching and follows the echo of voices coming from further inside.

He only has to walk for a minute before he can make them out. He slows his footsteps and presses himself to the wall as he inches forward.

“— _can’t,_ Mabel!” Mason says, like he’s said the same thing a few times already. “You know how it works, we can’t go around changing things. Even we do, the Time Police will probably change it right back.”

The lady—it’s definitely the lady, even though Stan doesn’t recognize the name—scoffs, and Stan imagines her waving him off. “Oh, come on, we could take ‘em! We won Globnar when we were _twelve,_ we could do it again!”

Mason sighs. Stan finally works up the guts to peer around and spot the two of them, just as Mason puts his hand to his forehead.

“Okay, fine, so we change something here, get arrested, win Globnar, and get a time wish. It’ll still mess up the timeline! We can’t break the universe to help them!”

His voice echoes so hard Stan flinches back. No. No, this isn’t Pa, this _isn’t Pa,_ this is _Mason,_ who … he knows nothing about. And has barely spoken a word to since they met. Who … doesn’t look anything like Pa, but he’s a grown-up, younger than Pa but still an _adult,_ and he doesn’t know Stan’s here, but if he finds _out_ …

The echoes of the shout die down. Stan stays where he is, feet rooted to the sand.

The lady doesn’t say anything. She doesn’t flinch or back down. She just looks at her brother with something a little like hurt, but mostly like sadness.

Mason winces.

“Look, I … I want to help them, too. I do. I get it. I don’t want them to hurt anymore than you do.” He tilts his head down. Stan can’t see his face very well, but he suddenly looks older. “But … it’s what happened. And it’s the reason so many good things happened. Bill might still be out there otherwise. And you know both of them would say getting rid of him was worth all it took to get there.”

Still, his sister is silent. She turns her head to stare off to the side—thankfully not in Stan’s direction. Mason bites his lip, and his hand twitches like he wants to reach out and put it on her shoulder.

“What did you even want to do, anyway?” he asks, with a gentleness that makes Stan relax. “We’re kind of early to fix a lot of the big stuff.”

The lady crosses her arms.

“But not too early to take them back with us and give them the best childhood _ever._ ”

Mason huffs a laugh. He shakes his head. “Then we wouldn’t even _have_ uncles.”

But there’s a soft look on his face, like he wants to do … whatever the hell his sister is asking him. Like when Ford tries to tell Stan an idea is bad but Stan _knows_ he’ll agree if he pushes hard enough.

His sister—Susan, Pacifica, Mabel—doesn’t push. She stares at the wall for a few more seconds, then looks back to him. There’s frustration on her face, pain, sadness, but no real anger. Whatever Mason is saying is something she’s heard before. It’s something she knows is true, even if she doesn’t like it.

“If we leave them here … is that the same thing as making it happen?” she asks, her voice quieter than Stan has heard it so far.

Mason drops his eyes again. For a second, something so painful flashes through them that Stan flinches again. Then his whole face goes almost blank, like when Shermie talks about that friend of his from school that died when he was a kid. He’s as much over it as he’ll ever be, but Ma told him it’ll never totally stop hurting.

“No,” Mason says. “This already happened for us. For them. We already heard about it, they _told_ us, that’s why we _know_ about it.”

The lady sighs, and there’s just as much pain in the sound as there is on her brother’s face. Her hands clench into fists, just for a second, before they go limp.

“Yeah. I know.” She lifts her head enough to give Mason a tiny, sad smile. “Doesn’t make it easier, though.”

Mason’s smile matches hers. There’s so much in those smiles that Stan doesn’t know how to read. Will probably never know how to read.

“You know, if it was us, they’d do anything to make sure the bad stuff didn’t happen,” the lady goes on.

Mason purses his lips. “Yeah.”

Neither of them look at each other, even though there’s so much hanging in the air that Stan swears he could gather it up and stuff it in a jar.

“We could totally win Globnar, y’know,” the lady adds.

Mason laughs again, breathy and sad.

“Yeah, but I’m not really up for almost getting killed today. That happens enough as it is.”

The lady gives him a half-smile and nudges his arm with an eyebrow-wag. “Who knows? It could still happen.”

“Hey, don’t jinx it!” Mason throws back, shoving her shoulder, but it’s gentle, and he’s smiling, and it feels exactly like the sort of thing Stan and Ford do all the time.

They really are twins.

Stan barely notices the rock in his gut as they give each other a smile and head back toward the exit. Toward him. Part of him wants to turn around and run before they catch him listening. That’s what he _should_ do.

But he doesn’t.

He stays right where he is, and when they get within a few feet of him, he moves out of his hiding place.

Right into their line of view.

It’s kind of satisfying to see Mason and the lady freeze, mouths open, eyes blown wide, staring down at him like they’re the ones with their hands caught in the cookie jar. It’s the first time an adult has ever looked at him like that, and for a few seconds, Stan feels like he has the power.

And then he remembers why he’s standing there. Why the backs of his eyes are burning with tears he’s not going to let fall. Why his chest feels heavy and his head is swirling and why he’s so confused and angry that he can’t bring himself to be afraid of the grown-ups who are always, _always_ stronger than he is.

His mouth opens without his permission, but he doesn’t try to stop the words.

“Why’d you break us out?”

He _swears_ that both of them blink at the exact same time. Then they stare, glance at each other, and look back to him, all perfectly in sync.

“Huh?”

But Stan doesn’t care how much they remind him of him and Ford. He doesn’t care how their faces look _just_ like his and Ford’s, he doesn’t _care,_ because it doesn’t _matter,_ because two grown-ups he’s never met before in his life took him and his brother to the beach because they said they _liked_ them and he _doesn’t understand why_.

“Why’d you break us out of our room?” he repeats, louder, even though his voice shakes. “You keep sayin’ you know us, but we don’t know either of you. Maybe I’d forget, but Ford remembers _everything._ ”

Ford should be here with him. Ford should be right at his side, backing him up on this. Except Ford is busy staring at some machinery Mason brought with him, too busy focused on nerd stuff to realize how _weird_ this all is, and Stan is alone, facing down these two adults who he can’t make sense of to save his life.

They glance at each other again. Mason’s face twists, and his sister tries to smile.

“It’s like I told you,” she says, her voice as happy-sad as her face. “I care about you. You and your brother. And I wanted to have a fun day with you.”

Stan clenches his fists.

“But that doesn’t make any _sense_! How can you care about us so much if we don’t even remember you? What were you _talking_ about back there?”

He’s yelling. He knows he’s yelling, and that never turns out well, Pa always shouts back or slaps him but he’s sick of being brushed aside and lied to and treated like he isn’t … like he isn’t …

Mason sighs.

“Look, Stan, it’s … it’s nothing you need to worry about.”

Stan grits his teeth so hard he almost feels them crack. “Cause I’m too stupid to get it?”

Mason jerks back, and his sister stares down at Stan with such wide eyes it looks like it hurts.

“What?” Mason stammers. “N-no, that’s … that’s not …”

“It’s true, though, ain’t it?” Stan cuts in. His voice cracks, and he swallows, but the lump in his throat doesn’t go away. “You showed Ford your nerd thing. You’d tell Ford, wouldn’t you?”

Mason opens his mouth, but no words come out, and that’s all Stan needs.

He wants to say he’s not stupid. Maybe he can’t understand all the nerd stuff Ford can, maybe he hates most of it, but he’s not _stupid._ The words are right there on his tongue, but as hard as he tries, he can’t get them out.

He’s told so many lies, but for some reason, this one won’t leave.

 _I’m saying_ you _did this, Stanley Pines!_

And he did.

He tried to do something good. He tried to make Pa happy. He tried and he just made things worse and Pa got mad and grounded them for the whole summer. Both of them. Because Stan screwed up.

Like he always screws up.

No matter how hard he tries, no matter what he does, he can never win. He can never do anything right. Pa still hates him and he doesn’t know why ‘cause he’s too much of an idiot to—

A pair of hands are on his shoulders, tugging him forward, and a second later, he’s wrapped in a tight hug.

It takes a few seconds before Stan realizes it’s the lady, on her knees in front of him, holding him just like Ma does when Pa isn’t around. She’s squeezing him so hard he can barely breathe, and she’s a stranger and it should be weird but it’s … not.

His hands hover in the air near her back, locked in place.

“What are you …?”

The lady gives him another squeeze, then leans back and puts her hands on his shoulders.

“You’re better at telling when people are lying than anyone I’ve ever met. So I want you to look at me, really hard, and tell me if I’m lying.”

Stan blinks. She stays right where she is and waits until he nods before she opens her mouth again.

“You’re not stupid,” she says, like it’s the most important thing in the world. “Not one tiny bit.”

Stan stops trying to move. He stops trying to talk. He stops trying to do anything but stand there and stare at her and _look_ at what he’s seeing.

There’s no real process behind how he looks for lies. He just … knows. He looks at someone’s face, listens to them talk, and he _knows_ when they’re lying.

He looks now.

He looks again and again and again.

But he doesn’t find anything but the truth.

“You’re not, Stan,” Mason cuts in, and Stan looks up to meet his eyes. It’s the first time they’ve really looked at each other for more than a few seconds. “No matter what anyone says.”

Stan isn’t sure how, but Mason’s words hit even harder than his sister’s, even if there’s no warm hug and his voice is quieter. There’s something pained and … real behind it. More of that stuff he doesn’t understand and is pretty sure they’re not going to explain.

But … he doesn’t mind so much.

Because they’re not lying. Either of them.

Stan isn’t sure of much else, but he is sure of that.

“Stanley?”

Ford’s shout is faint, but still echoes around the cave walls. The lady lets go of Stan’s shoulders, and he turns around. By the time Ford runs around the corner, she’s standing a couple of feet away, like she wasn’t hugging him tight only a few seconds ago.

“ _There_ you are!” Ford says, huffing a sigh of relief so heavy it’s almost funny. The machinery stuff is clutched in one hand, but his eyes are locked on Stan. “I couldn’t find you anywhere and I saw you come in he—are … are you okay?”

The concern in his eyes is warmer than Stan has seen in weeks. Maybe even more than he saw during the whole Jersey Devil adventure. And Stan doesn’t care if it’s silly or girly or any of that junk. His face softens, and he smiles as he reaches out to squeeze his brother’s shoulder.

“Yeah, buddy. I’m fine.”

“And what a perfect time for you to come get us!” the lady cuts in, snapping both Stan’s and Ford’s attention back to her. “Your pirate costume is all ready for you to try on outside, and Stan’s should be almost finished, too! We can put the last touches and make the hats. Come on, you’re gonna _love_ it!”

And just like that, she grabs Ford’s hand and all but drags him back out of the cave. Ford stumbles along, glancing over his shoulder one more time. Stan just laughs and waves.

Mason fidgets at his side. Stan looks back just as he clears his throat.

“Did you want to see the, uh, device?” he asks, pulling that weird machine thing out of his pocket. It looks kind of like a radio up close, but smaller and with more buttons—and something like a tape measure stuck to the top

Stan looks at the machine. Glances at the spot where Ford stood less than a minute ago. Then to the ground.

“You don’t hafta show it to me,” he mutters, nudging a piece of broken glass near his right foot. “Nerd stuff’s more Ford’s thing.”

“That doesn’t mean there’s nothing that would interest you,” Mason says. There’s something … softer in his voice now. Stan doesn’t say anything. A few seconds pass. “Do you like cars?”

Stan looks up. Mason gives him a tiny smile. Stan chews the inside of his lip.

“… yeah …”

Mason smiles a little wider. “Well, the mechanics are different, but … it’s all the same kind of thing. The stuff that makes up a car is a lot like what makes up this.”

Stan blinks. Blinks again. Then he frowns and scrunches his eyebrows.

“Are you pulling my leg?”

He tries to sound suspicious, but some of his curiosity slips out without his permission, and yeah, Mason definitely picked up on it. His smile gets wider—not nearly as wide as his sister’s, but big for him. He holds out his free hand.

“Here. Let’s go find a spot outside and I’ll show you.”

And despite all the voices in his head telling him that he shouldn’t accept it, that he’s just going to mess it up, that it’s not even worth trying and this guy is just wasting his time on him … Stan takes Mason’s hand and lets him lead him out of the cave.

Just as he expects, a lot of the nerd babble doesn’t make sense at first, and Stan finds himself glancing at Ford for help, even though he’s too far away to ask for help. But unlike everyone else who’s tried to explain something to Stan, Mason actually stops after a minute and asks him if he gets it. And when Stan says he doesn’t, when he looks away and tries not to blush, Mason just nods and tries again, a little differently than before.

And after one or two more tries, Stan starts to understand.

It’s still kind of confusing, and not the easiest thing in the world, but he _gets_ it.

Mason keeps explaining. And Stan keeps getting it.

And … he actually kind of likes it.

It’s not really like cars, and it’s still nerdy, but it’s not all bad. Mason gives him some extra machine parts, so he can play around with them without worrying about breaking anything. Stan asks questions, and even when they feel stupid, Mason answers every single one.

It’s not what Stan pictured when he imagined a day on the beach: Ford learning to sew and him learning about machines. If the lady told him this was what she was planning when she broke them out, he probably would have laughed and told her he’d have more fun in his room.

Maybe she planned it. Maybe she didn’t.

But even if she did … Stan’s glad he didn’t get the chance to refuse.

In a few hours, he and Ford will go back to their room for the rest of summer. This is the last day they’ll spend on the beach until school starts, and then they’ll have class and homework and Ford will start snatching up every extra credit opportunity he can find.

The other kids will still think he’s a dumber, sweatier version of his brother. Ma will be busy with her fake psychic business. Shermie will be gone all the time.

And Pa will still hate him.

He’ll be the failure. The screw-up. The mistake.

Nothing will change. Not really. Things will go on like they always have.

But before that … he’ll get to listen to Mason explain something he never thought he could understand, and actually understand some of it. He’ll get to dress up in pirate costumes—and tease Ford about picking up sewing—and play pirates on the Stan O’War with _four_ people instead of two. He’ll get to hang out with two crazy grown-ups who look at him and his brother like they’re important and worth their time, even if he still won’t understand why.

And he’ll remember that. He’ll hold onto everything the two of them said, every minute they spent with him, even when they’ve gone back to wherever the hell they came from.

He’ll remember the lady’s tight hug and Mason’s gentle smile.

And maybe … maybe that will make the bad stuff just a little easier to get through.

After all, if these two weird, random, cool people think he’s not stupid … if they think so much of him to look at him with that much warmth in their eyes …

Maybe he’s not so bad.

Maybe, just maybe, he can be cool, too.

**Author's Note:**

> So do the Time Police show up eventually to erase/blur the kids' memories, or do Stan and Ford just remember two strange adults taking them out to the beach? You decide ;)


End file.
